


Markiplier x Reader: Game Time

by KingOfHearts709



Category: markiplier - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff, idk - Freeform, its kinda cute actually, just read it, markimoo, markipliergame, markplier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 07:52:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3402749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingOfHearts709/pseuds/KingOfHearts709
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark and you can never find anything to play. How is your fun going to end up?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Markiplier x Reader: Game Time

**Author's Note:**

> Shaaaaaadup, this is number two of my Markiplier x Readers. I'm just getting them all on HERE, and the original posting is on DeviantArt! x

“Monopoly,” you suggested. Mark shook his head ‘no’.  
“Life,” he countered. You shook your head.  
“Just Dance?” He shrugged  
“Twister?” You laughed out loud, loudly.  
“Yeah, sure.”  
“Really?”  
“No.” You shook your head and searched through your closet again, trying to find something to do. “God, there is nothing in here.”  
“It’s your closet, though,” Mark told you, moving you over to look inside.  
“Hey, don’t push.”  
“What about Scrabble?”  
“I’ll kick your ass, just saying.” Mark looked at you.  
“Oh, really?”  
“Really.” He grabbed the game and squeezed out of the closet.  
“Let’s play,” he said, raising his eyebrows.  
“Oh, you are so going to lose,” you said, ready for the challenge.  
Not even fifteen minutes into the game and already it was getting boring.  
“That’s not a word, Mark,” you told him.  
“Sure it is,” he argued, putting down his letters.  
“‘Laser’ is not spelled with a ‘z’.”  
“Laser is too spelled with a ‘z’.” You groaned and fell backwards onto your carpet.  
“Let’s do something else,” you suggested. Mark, being as cheerful as he was, grabbed a set of cards off of the coffee table and took them out.  
“How about Go Fish?” he asked.  
That game didn’t last long.  
“Do you have a five?” you asked, laying on your side as you looked at your cards.  
“Go Fish,” Mark replied, smiling.  
“God damn it!” you cursed, drawing a card.  
“Do you have any queens?”  
“Yes.” You handed him the one queen in your hand, and that was it. Mark had no cards left.  
“Looks like I win,” he smiled triumphantly.  
“Yeah, good for you.” He pouted.  
“Aw, don’t be such a downer. What else can we do?” You looked at him, seeing his childlike smile and eagerness.  
“I can’t think of anything else,” you shrugged. He sighed and leaned back on his hands.  
“Truth or dare?” he asked suddenly. You scoffed.  
“Mark, we are not in high school.”  
“Come on! Truth or dare?” You groaned.  
“Truth.”  
“Have you...ever read smut before?” You laughed aloud.  
“Have you forgotten who you’re talking to?” you asked him.  
“Yeah, that was stupid. Let me go again.”  
“No, one per turn. Truth or dare?”  
“Dare,” he said, striking some kind of heroic pose.  
“I dare you to...drink my expired milk.” Mark made a disgusted face and looked over at your fridge.  
“Why do you have expired milk?” he asked.  
“I never got more milk and haven’t had time to get rid of my own. I knew it’d be useful at some point.” You grinned mischieviously as Mark groaned and stood to get the milk from the fridge.  
“I hate you for this!” he called as he took a little sip of the milk, gagging and immediately spitting it out in your sink.  
“Oh, crap, was it that bad?” you called. Mark looked at the milk jug and nodded.  
“That’s, like, a week expired, (YN)!” he laughed and went back to sit down with you.  
“Truth or dare?” he asked.  
“Truth,” you said simply.  
“But you already did truth!”  
“You asked ‘truth or dare’!”  
“Pick dare. Please? I have a really good one.” You groaned.  
“Oh, fine. Dare.” He did some kind of happy dance and stood.  
“I dare you to give me piggy-back ride.” You stared at him. How much did he weigh? Definitely more than you.  
“Mark, I seriously doubt I can even lift your arm,” you pointed out.  
“Hey, I’m not that fat!” he joked. You stood up and sighed.  
“Alright, I’ll give it a shot.” You went in front of him and bent over (oh, jeez, suggestive). “Jump on, but be careful.” Mark easily climbed onto your back and, to your utter surprise, you could keep him steady, but just barely.  
“Onward, minion!” he said, pointing forward. You took one step and groaned as the weight on your back became heavier and harder to carry. “Go!” Another step and...  
You fell over. Mark came tumbling down on top of you as you groaned once more in pain and relief. You started giggling, barely able to, but still managing. Mark ceased moving and laughed along with you, head in your neck.  
“Mark?” you asked as you stopped laughing.  
“Hm?” he mumbled, seemingly tired.  
“Get off me, please.” He sighed and rolled to the side next to you. Finally, you could breathe better.  
“Oh, that was such a bad idea,” Mark said, chuckling a little.  
“Maybe not as bad as the expired milk,” you said.  
“Nope, piggy-back ride was awful. You didn’t even make it to the hallway!”  
“Says the man who couldn’t even drink a gulp of the milk. You had, like, what? Two drops?”  
“It was a week expired, (YN). You could have killed me!”  
“Killed you? At the most, you would’ve had an upset stomach.”  
“I totally could have died.”  
“You could not!”  
“Sure I could! I would drink a glass of that stuff, go to the hospital and they’d have to take out my stomach or something and in the process I would die.”  
“That is so not how it works, Mark.”  
“Really? How does it work, then?”  
“I don’t know. You throw up for about an hour then sleep.” He made a disgusted face and sighed, putting a hand behind his head and looking over at you. You stared at him and smiled, laughing.  
“You’re pretty,” he blurted out. You laughed.  
“Why, thank you, good sir,” you said. “Beauty takes time. You’re also very pretty, if I may say so myself.” He smiled back at you.  
“It’s probably my fluffy hair,” he said, trying to look at his hair and touching it. You reached out and whipped it around a bit. “Hey, do not mess with the fluffy hair!” He pushed your hand away, but you were persistent. “Oh, so that’s the game you want to play.” He immediately reached out to mess with your hair, ruffling it.  
“Hey, it took me all day to get this right!” you complained, trying to get his hand away from your head.  
“I was here all day!” Mark reminded you, now only running his hand through your hair.  
“I meant before that.” You just lightly ran his hair through your own fingers now. “Your hair’s soft.”  
“Ditto.” You laughed.  
“I’m going to fall asleep...,” you mumbled, closing your eyes.  
“Funny,” Mark said, but when you didn’t respond, perhaps you really had gone to sleep, his hand still in your hair, yours entangled in his.  
Eventually, he drifted off as well.


End file.
